


Snow

by lolneptune



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 05:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5815396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolneptune/pseuds/lolneptune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's real sad, and Harry's feeling heroic. Throw in an invisibility cloak, a shit ton of snow, another shit ton of hormones, and, well. They are teenage boys, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [janteu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/janteu/gifts).



> This is essentially porn.
> 
> Also, it's a work in progress. I know it (literally) sucks.

Draco sat. And sat. And he really shouldn't have come outside, because he was feeling so hollow that with every breath he felt the snowflakes enter through his mouth and swirl angrily around his insides from the matching locks on his head to his rapidly freezing toes. Even his eyes failed him as they drooped in what had become a constant state of melancholy. He dug the toes of his snow boots into the ground lamely. Watched the virgin snow crumble. Swirled it around with the leaves and shattered earth. Sniffed.

Stupid bloody war. Stupid bloody Dumbledore. Stupid bloody parents and Voldemort and Potter. 

He didn't want to think. Every thing was bloody stupid. Stupid bloody. Whatever. The glassy icicles draping the trees around him like Christmas ornaments were all he wanted to focus on. The clouded, sickly yellow of the sky and the light it emitted, somehow finding its way to this one little icicle on a tree branch. It glimmered silver-blue against the alluring emerald of the tree. He didn't want to think about those colors, though. And he didn't want to think about eyes or blood or bathrooms. He didn't want to think about skull shattering screams and destructive green light. Draco sighed. This was rather depressing. 

The sun was evidently setting on this little clearing Draco had discovered in the Forbidden Forest, as the sky had darkened a considerable amount since he'd arrived merely ten minutes ago. And it was growing quite chilly -- the ice had finally managed to breach his half-heartedly cast heating charm and was now creeping stealthily into his very bones. He thought he'd better go inside, but realistically, the light and warmth that permeated Hogwarts would make no difference. Draco was a different kind of cold.

Out of the corner of his eye, a patch of snow smushed. In the shape of a foot print. Draco pretended not to flinch. 

"Come to spy on me, Potter?" he drawled, but his signature tone lacked its usual bite. He shifted in his seat and tried to look dignified. "I thought you'd finally gotten past that."

Draco thought he heard a vague little snort somewhere by his ear. "Apparently, I was wrong," he added.

The layer of ashy snow coating the bench beside him was being brushed aside, now, by an invisible hand. 

"Oh, no. Please don't."

The bench wobbled as it seemed Potter had helped himself to a seat. Draco frowned and made to get up. That same invisible hand suddenly shot out to grip his forearm. 

"Er," Draco started, "If you don't mind --"

"Stay." 

He was surprised, at the least, by the gravelly voice that interrupted him. Potter hadn't spoken a word until now. Stupidly, he allowed his eyes to flicker down to the imprint on his jacket that was Potter's hand.

"Er. Alright."

His grip loosened slightly but didn't leave Draco's arm for several moments. 

Draco shifted a bit in his seat, his posture tense. When Potter said nothing, he glanced at his general area. 

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

Draco let out a huff of exasperation. "Why'd you demand that I stay? Did you need to tell me something important or were you simply too lazy to follow me around any longer?"

Potter laughed. Stupid bloody Potter. "Do I need a reason?"

"Yes."

"Ha. Alright, then. You looked lonely."

"What? I did NOT look lonely."

"You looked very lonely. You had this poignant stare of abandonment in your eyes."

"Shut up, Potter."

"I simply had to see what was wrong. Or make you feel better. Or something."

"Why d'you have to go around being a hero? Haven't you done enough, you know, killing Voldemort and all? Saving the lives of millions of witches and wizards?" Draco had meant for it to sound snarky, but it came out all wrong. Almost teasing, and not in a good way -- well, it depended how one looked at it. 

"Why d'you have to go around being an arse?"

"YOU'RE an arse," Draco finally spat when he found himself uncharacteristically short of a witty comeback. A petulant look set into his face as he leaned back into the bench. It was rather dark now... Late... Most definitely past curfew. Draco blinked away a few snowflakes that had caught in his eyelashes. The snow was still falling like its intention was to wound the earth.

"I'm cold. May I leave, now?" Draco asked, feigning politeness. He heard a drawn-out sigh, and then glimpsed a patch of black and a strange silvery shimmering in the air, and then all of a sudden he was warm and canopied in that same silvery material. And, well, there was Potter.

Grinning obnoxiously at the bewildered look on Draco's face.

He pulled out his wand and cast an additional warming charm on Draco. "There," he said, all-too-cheerfully. "Problem solved." He had this stupid cheeky smile that made his reddened cheeks bunch up and his teeth gleam and his nose scrunch and his green eyes crinkle. 

Draco's frown deepened. He was always scowling, it seemed. It was easier than smiling. "What are you doing, Potter? Why are you being so courteous as to allow me under your cloak? What on earth are you planning? Do keep in mind that I could whip out my wand right this very moment and bloody PETRIFY you --"

"Oh, I'm sure you could."

"-- and... Yes, yes, I could, actually, and don't think it's not bloody powerful --"

"That's good, I do like a nice wand."

" It's a very nice wand, yes, and I could hex you into oblivion --"

"Well, if that's what we're calling it."

"Yes, Potter, I have a nice, powerful wand and I'll bloody hex your stupid arse senseless -- Why are you grinning? Stop that. Stop."

He didn't stop.

"Merlin, Potter, would you wipe that fucking grin off your face before I take out my wand and do it for you?"

"Oooh, kinky."

Draco's brows furrowed, completely taken aback. "What in Merlin's name --" His expression slowly morphed into one of utter shock as realization dawned on him. "You..." 

"Mmmmhm."

"Fuck you."

"Well, if you insist..."

Draco felt a rush of anger and something inexplicably like arousal greet his face in a cloud of deep red. "I really will whip my wand out, Potter, if you don't stop this very instant."

Potter's stupid git face just would not budge. "Which all-powerful wand, may I ask?"

Draco's eyes narrowed defensively. "You know which." 

"Oh, I do hope so. Let's see it, then." 

And now, NOW, Potter's grin had finally subsided, if only into a little suggestive smirk that had Draco's mind shutting down, and Draco was really looking at Potter, at his plush coral stain of lips and his soft, inky black fringe that grew everywhere and managed to mingle with his thick, curled eyelashes against the stark forest green of his irises that looked like bloody Christmas wreaths --

And Draco really needed to get a hold of himself. 

Draco did a literal double take upon hearing Potter's words. His eyebrows seemed to be stuck between flying high up to his hairline and low down to his eyelashes. Everything about his expression was confusing. He quickly recovered, his face a mask of stone. "Er, fine. It's right here, in my pocket." Without breaking what he hoped was threatening eye contact, Draco nimbly slid his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at Potter. "See? And now, if you don't mind, I'll be on my merry way --"

"No, your other wand, you numbskull," Potter snapped with an eye roll. 

"But -- we're outside --"

"And invisible."

Draco huffed in disbelief. "Well, now, I think I really WILL hex you."

Potter smirked. Stupid bloody Potter and his stupid bloody lips. "What," he asked Draco in that obnoxiously alluring voice of his, "Scared, Malfoy?"

Ferocious determination set in and Draco's eyes were on fire. Oh, how the tables had turned since all those years ago... "You wish."

And now Potter was moving, and oh, no -- he was shifting to kneel in front of Draco, and he was looking all expectant, and Draco had to lean forward to hide the tent in his pants and he filled his mind with thoughts of Severus in a sparkly tutu and finally he glanced down and woah. He was actually going to do this. There was no backing out, now. 

"Uh."

"Well?"

"Why are you kneeling?"

"Better view." 

His face burned. "But why --"

"Quit stalling, Malfoy." 

Draco scowled. Why did Potter have to be such a git? Why did he even want to see Draco's... well... wand? So he could have something to laugh about with his friends? Because, well, Potter definitely wouldn't be laughing, of all things. "Someone's eager."

Harry raised his eyebrows in an amused sort of fashion. "I could say the same to you," he retorted, pointedly glancing at Draco's still-present and poorly-concealed erection. Draco blanched. His cock twitched. He hoped to Merlin that Potter hadn't noticed. 

"It's not because of you," he was quick to say. "It's... I have very sensitive, er, hormones, and it's instinctive I suppose that when someone bloody kneels --"

"Malfoy, again with the stalling."

Draco scrunched up his nose sourly. "Fine. Have it your way." And then he was unbuttoning his pants, and unzipping, and shoving them down to his knees and oh dear Merlin he was pulling down his briefs and Potter was watching. 

His cock sprung free almost gleefully. In all its eight-inch glory.

Well, this was it. He'd done it. He watched Potter's expression carefully, but it was awfully queer -- pun 200% intended. His eyes were just kind of... glued to Draco's cock. Unmoving. His face would become stuck like that, Draco thought. His eyebrows halfway up, his eyes glazed over, his lips pursed. Draco shifted uncomfortably and shoved his hands under his too-pale thighs. He felt incredibly vulnerable, sitting there. His bare thighs all squished on the bench and everything literally hanging out. Or rather, sticking out.

"Well? Is that enough, Potter? I think I'll tuck it away, now, if that's quite alright. You're a bloody git, you know that? And a stupid one at that -- surely the only laugh you'll get out of this experience will be directed at your own size, and this can only be dreadful for your self-esteem, and -- Oo-oh."

Oh. "Oh" was right. Potter had, well, leaned forward, and now his, er, lips were brushing feather-light against Draco's throbbing cock. 

"Salazar, Potter, what the bloody -- Oh. Mmm. Ooooooh fuck."

And now Potter had let his stupid bloody tongue slip past his lips and he was LICKING. Licking up his -- oh. 

"Potter, oh fuck -- fuckfuckfuck stop that. Stop. Mmm."

Draco was actually choking. "Bloody -- get off. Get off, Potter. O-off."

He gripped the edge of the bench until his knuckles turned white. Hot spasms of pleasure washed over him and he was dead sure that if he didn't get a grip he'd THRUST or something awful like that --

He was dying. He was ohmygodohmygodohmygod. And Potter's mouth was searing hot and wet and soft and velvety smooth and his rough tongue would dart around and swirl and -- now, NOW, he was sucking just a little bit, his pretty lips  
enveloping Draco's dick and shining with spit and Draco shuddered manically and -- 

He raised his eyes to meet Draco's. And if Potter's eyes in that moment weren't the single most erotic objects Draco had glimpsed in his life...

Potter's eyes were unbelievably green, and unbelievably dark, his pupils dilated and lids sleepy in that incredibly seductive way, and now he was pulling off with a soft pop and his lips were swollen and shiny and gorgeous and why'd he stop? 

"Alright, have it your way. I'm off." 

"No, er -- wait --"

Potter feigned a look of questioning. 

"I didn't mean -- I'm not gay, alright? I just -- I can pretend you're someone else, or -- Why are you looking at me like that? Stop looking at me like that."

Potter's lips twitched. Draco's cock twitched.

It was getting rather chilled with the air around it and ohmygod it was physically painful how erect and needy he was.

"Potter. Are you going to do something or what? I'll finish myself off if I need to, b-but mmm."

Potter pressed his lips to the very tip of Draco's cock and ran a textured tongue over the slit. His mouth opened and -- Draco couldn't control himself.

His now sweaty hips thrust forward into Potter's mouth. The boy gagged, and then -- was he... 

Draco let out a rather animalistic noise when Harry gripped the soft flesh of Draco's thighs and swallowed. Draco had to squeeze his eyes shut or he'd come. 

"Fucking hell, Potter, have you done this before? Ooh." 

One of Potter's hands was rubbing circles in Draco's exposed thigh, and the other was now playing with his fucking bollocks. Rolling here, squeezing lightly there... He couldn't hold it in any longer. 

"Potter. I'm. Fuck."

And he seemed to understand, because then he was bobbing his head and swirling like it was a candy cane. A very large candy cane. Something hot and sweet tightened in Draco's stomach and bollocks and his vision was clouding. Harry was looking at him. 

That was a shriek so loud Harry had to clamp a hand over Draco's mouth so McGonagall wouldn't come striding over with the intention of investigating a murder scene. 

And then it was over, his dick flaccid as Harry pulled off. A smile was on his face and a tent in his pants. Draco couldn't stop stupidly grinning. He felt so gross, his saliva coated dick chilly and sensitive and once again tucked into his pants but WOW. He didn't even feel the smile on his face. Maybe smiling was easier than frowning. 

"Er --" Potter finally said, breaking the comfortable silence that blanketed them like the snow outside Harry's cloak. He rose from his kneeling position and took his original seat beside Draco. He cleared his throat. "Hope that cheered you up." He tried to push his hair out of his face -- unsuccessfully -- and rubbed the back of his neck almost humbly. 

Draco rolled his eyes. "Idiot." But now he couldn't help gazing at Harry's lips and feeling that post-coital relaxation set in. And his lips were parted. And he was leaning in. 

The first thing he tasted was himself. And that was gross. So he pulled away. But with a little smile, he tilted his chin up and kissed Harry's nose. And then his cheek. And then his chin and he was licking up his neck when Harry made this soft grunting noise that sent Draco's lids fluttering open. Oh, he realized. Harry hadn't finished. 

His smile grew the teensiest bit. "You want me to take care of that?"


End file.
